


Mi Querida

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam meets an older Beatriz one day, which leads to a mistake neither will regret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mi Querida

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Burn Notice Kink Meme.

He sees her again in Little Havana, arguing with a gelato salesman about a forgotten topping. Sam reaches out at the sound of her voice and places a hand on her shoulder. He gets a fist to the chin.

“Sam!” she laughed, and throws her arms around his neck to pull him up.

Dinner conversation spills out into the warm summer air over quesadilas as they catch up; she was a reporter now, on vacation in Miami. His life was laid out in beers, massages and random meetings with grieving widows; but she listens with intent to his words, without judgment.

That night she comes to his room in the Holliday Inn. He was between girls and houses then, and the sight of her hovering like an angel in the doorway was enough to make him wish for someone to keep, a constant in a life stripped of rules.

“Don’t ask,” she begs, crawling into his bed.

 _This is wrong_ he thinks, as his cock pulses in her tiny hand. _Wrong._ But that thought swims away, never stopping him from fastening his mouth to her small nut-colored nipples until she curses and yanks on his hair.

He treats her to the gentle touch of his open palm, the ease of his cock sliding. She bounds upon him, cursing, sweating, her hair sticking up like a porcupine, her eyes pressed closed. Her orgasm is a gasp and a compression of muscles around his aching cock – she earns a little groan, the drip of his sweat, the mercy of his voice calling her name.

They stare at the ceiling, listening to the rain spatter against the window. “It was what I needed,” she says, when he mumbles a question.

Sam looks. “I can’t give you more than this,” he confesses. “You deserve better than some old sea dog. A girl like you…”

She presses a palm to his lips. “Let’s just pretend for tonight.”

He rests his hand against her face, and tries to do as she wishes.


End file.
